


Mean It More Than a Little

by liadan14



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: First Time, Fix-It, M/M, surprisingly explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: In which Joaquin comes back and Kevin kind of wants to push him up against the wall for a change, in more ways than one.





	Mean It More Than a Little

Joaquin comes back on a Tuesday in March.

It’s still chilly in Riverdale, wind biting and rain pouring. The ice on the river has melted, but Kevin may still be wearing scarves and V-neck sweaters, and Joaquin really needs to stop thinking about that because he does not deserve to.

Kevin doesn’t know about this. Kevin knows he hates Tuesdays because of double biology, and because his dad’s never home. He goes to school, he goes home, he talks to Veronica on the phone (by which he means he makes agreeing noises while she tells him something about Archie’s music that he really does not care about), he makes dinner, he goes to bed.

It takes Joaquin a week to work up the courage to text him. Which is pretty pathetic considering he’s in a motorcycle gang and once literally disposed of a dead body. Kevin is just one boy, one startlingly handsome boy who once almost went down to Sweetwater River with Joaquin, but still.

He texts the word “Hey”, and feels simultaneously like a loser and a douchebag.

It takes Kevin two hours to answer the word “Hi.”

Joaquin, being a strong, brave, almost basically grown-up man, says he’s back in town and asks if Kevin wants to meet up. He then throws his phone on FP’s couch and buries it under the cushions. (It’s an empty and surprisingly clean trailer. Joaquin’s mama ain’t got space for him to come swanning back in, it’s why he joined the damn serpents in the first place.)

Twenty minutes later, he gives in, checks his phone, and then drives like a madman to Sweetwater River.

Kevin is still stupidly tall.

He’s wearing that purple sweater.

He’s fucking all Joaquin wants.

And his arms are crossed and he looks pretty damn pissed off.

“I…” Joaquin starts. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

Joaquin runs a hand through his hair. It’s kind of scruffy – he didn’t really spend much time at the hairdressers’ while he was on the lam. “For spying on you and your friends. For lying to you. For…” he takes a deep breath. “For making you feel like I was just in it for FP and the serpents. I wasn’t. I promise.”

Kevin stalks up to him, confused anger radiating off him like heat off a nuclear explosion. He just keeps walking, till Joaquin has to step back or collide with him, and a part of Joaquin thinks, _shit, is he gonna punch me_. A bigger part of him thinks he deserves it.

But Kevin just keeps walking him backwards, and back and back until his back hits a tree, and then Kevin is right up in his face, and he doesn’t even say anything at all, just kisses him aggressively, open-mouthed and searing hot and Joaquin…

Look, let’s be real here: Joaquin has no game. None at all. He got by on bravado and his leather jacket till it got him Kevin pushed up against a fence, their hips almost-not-quite-aligned and Kevin’s hands in his hair, and then Kevin was forcefully entering his number in Joaquin’s phone and the rest is history. There really aren’t a lot of gay motorcycle gangsters for Joaquin to have tried it out with first, at least in Riverdale. There’s one.

And that one is tilting his head back while Kevin sucks a line of hickeys up his neck, whimpering just a little bit.

That one was more than a little shocked when his straight-laced, Sheriff’s-son boyfriend suggested going down to the river to fool around at his friend’s birthday party. That one honestly got a little hard just thinking about it. Before FP came in and ruined everything, that is.

And Joaquin is currently a lot more than a little hard, gasping for breath and making a lot of really dumb noises while Kevin keeps kissing him, keeps running hands up under his shirt, keeps dragging fingers through his hair.

But…

“Wait,” he gasps out, “no.”

“What,” Kevin says, out of breath, deliciously mussed, and still totally pissed off. “Is this not what you wanted when you texted me? Get one real fuck out of the sheriff’s son?”

“No.” Joaquin says. He wishes he were just a little taller, so that Kevin couldn’t physically tower over him. It’s intimidating. It’s hot. “I mean…I mean yeah, of course I want you but not…I really just wanted to apologize. I really did…do like you, Preppy.”

Kevin throws his hands up. “What’s your game here, Joaquin? You waltz out of town, basically running from the law, and I _helped_ you, and not a word, not a letter or a damn text message since then.”

“I’m sorry,” Joaquin repeats quietly. “I thought…I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Anymore.”

“I wish,” Kevin says bitterly. “I still want to screw you up against the nearest flat surface, apparently.”

“Which I take as a compliment,” Joaquin says, with a lot more bravado than he feels.

“Apparently not,” Kevin says, nodding to the arms Joaquin has somehow wrapped protectively around himself without noticing.

Joaquin sighs. Looks like apologizing is a lot more humiliating than he thought. “Look,” he says. “Kev. I want to…I want that, with you, more than anything. It’s…honestly, it’s a big part of why I came back. I want to fix what I screwed up. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I want to help you and your friends on your weird-ass crusade to save this dumb town, OK? I just…I don’t…I can’t just have sex with you in the middle of the woods while you still kinda wanna bash my head in. I…I wanted it to be. Nice.” He finishes lamely, and stuffs his hands into his pocket.

“So you thought about doing this with me.”

Joaquin gets it, sort of. Kevin probably still doesn’t believe he meant any of what was between them in the fall.

He reaches up, strokes Kevin’s hair back in a way he always wanted to, back then. “I’ve never had sex,” he says, and it somehow takes more bravery than every other part of this conversation put together. “I don’t wanna start out like this. It’s why I never…before. It felt wrong.”

“Well, yeah, would’ve been false pretenses,” Kevin says. “I just assumed you didn’t want me telling you I loved you or something.”

Joaquin just about chokes on thin air.

Kevin continues, regardless. “Because I would have, you know. If we’d fucked. Before.”

“I was terrified,” Joaquin says. “I…you thought I was this cool, experienced guy, and I thought you were the best thing I’d ever seen, and then FP caught wind and it just all went to shit. I was already using you for intel, I couldn’t use you for that. If you’d told me…if you’d said that…I don’t know what I would have done.”

“But you wanted to.”

“Of course I wanted to. I’m eighteen, I’m a virgin, and you are the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever met.” Joaquin blushes, looks away.

Kevin steps closer again, cupping Joaquin’s face in his hands. “Say I believe you. Say I forgive you. What then?”

“Why would you do that?”

Kevin shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. When we met, you didn’t know who I was, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And then your boss was basically forcing you to spy on me.”

“I mean, I could probably have…I don’t know. Left the gang.”

Kevin stares at him. “Seriously?”

Joaquin shrugs. “I thought about it. But it’s all I know, and I got two sisters still in school. We needed the cash.”

Kevin grabs him by the hair, pulls him close, kisses him again. It’s softer this time, slower, but Joaquin feels like he’s being set on fire, from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his toes. The tree is rough and fucking freezing at his back, but Kevin is a solid line of warmth, and Joaquin moans.

“You’ve,” Kevin gasps, pulling back, “you’ve really never?”

“No,” Joaquin says, blushing again.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me,” Kevin says, thunking their foreheads together. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Hmm?” Joaquin sighs. He’s kind of staring at Kevin’s lips. At his eyes. At that bit of stubble at his jaw.

“You’re getting in my car. We’re going to wherever you’re staying. We’re gonna sit on the couch and make out some more. And…and if you’re serious about this, about helping out, about, about us, maybe you’ll come talk to my dad tomorrow?”

And Joaquin will blame maybe the cold, maybe his hormones, but what he says is, “I like when you take charge.”

Kevin fucking smirks at him.

-

Making out on the couch is a fantastic idea. Making out anywhere is a good idea, making out places that aren’t cold is better, and Kevin sprawled on top of him, that’s…that’s. Well.

Joaquin will not be held responsible.

“Hey, whose trailer is this?” Kevin asks between heavy, wet kisses.

“FPs,” Joaquin admits.

Kevin laughs, but won’t tell him why. Instead, he rucks up Joaquin’s shirt, strips it over his head, licks down his chest and grabs a nipple between his teeth.

“Fuck,” Joaquin gasps. “Fuck, fuck.”

“You ever gotten a blowjob before?”

“Uh-uh.”

Kevin grins again, that little, mischievous, _oh, sometimes I go down to Sweetwater River and fool around_ grin, and Joaquin wonders again how someone so beautiful can be so fucking dirty.

Then Kevin’s opening his fly, pulling out his dick, and, wow, thinking is way overrated.

No one’s ever even touched him before. But there Kevin is, with his pretty pink mouth suspended right over him, and he’s, oh, god, he’s licking, and then sucking, and then just taking half of it in his mouth and fluttering his tongue around the head and Joaquin cannot fucking watch this happen or he will lose it in about half a minute.

He’s vaguely aware he’s saying things, things like “Madre de dios, oh fuck, _Kevin_ ”. He really doesn’t care.

He floats, hazy, enjoying, his fingers slipping around Kevin’s collar. When Kevin pulls off it startles a grunt out of him.

“Hey, as much as I’m enjoying this,” Kevin says, “D’you wanna come like this or…”

“Or?” Joaquin asks.

“You want me to use my fingers?”

Joaquin may cry he’s so blissed out by the thought alone. His cock twitches, hard, and he groans.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kevin says, grinning. He digs around in his pockets and comes up with lube, and wow, he really thought Joaquin was in this for the sex.

“Wait,” Joaquin says, cursing himself for it as he does, “wait, I don’t want this to be just about me. I wanna…I wanna make you feel good.”

And, well, as hot as it is when Kevin takes charge, when he seduces, his smile, his real smile, is so damn pretty. “Believe me,” he says. “This is doing it for me like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You could…” Joaquin trails off. “I mean, you could…uh…fuck me, if you want.”

Kevin’s eyes are dark, but his hands are gentle on Joaquin’s thighs. “I thought you wanted to wait.”

From somewhere, Joaquin summons his last remaining ounce of machismo. “Preppy, I’ve wanted to fuck you since you shushed me at the drive-in like a suburban mom.” That gets his thigh slapped, kinda hard, and okay, that might also be a thing Joaquin likes. But this is a serious moment, damn it. “I just didn’t want it to be with you hating me.”

“I don’t think I could,” Kevin says, leaning up to kiss Joaquin slowly, thoroughly. His fingers, wet with lube, slip behind Joaquin’s balls, press against his perineum, circle his hole, and jesus.

“Shit,” Joaquin says. “Um. Don’t I have to, like…shower or something?”

“Oh.” Kevin says.

He ends up dragging Joaquin into the shower with a hand around his bicep, still kissing him furiously.

“Oh,” Joaquin moans, pressed up against the shower wall while Kevin really thoroughly and surprisingly sensually cleans him, strokes every part of his skin, including his cock which at this point is nearly purple.

Joaquin cannot catch his breath. He really did not think he would be this noisy in bed.

“God, I can’t believe I’m the first one who gets to do this,” Kevin mutters against his shoulder, two fingers deep in Joaquin’s ass. Joaquin is just whining into the shower wall, not entirely sure what words are anymore.

He catches his breath long enough to tell Kevin they need to do something, now, or he’s gonna lose it.

“Yeah, okay,” Kevin says, and manhandles Joaquin out of the shower and towards the bedroom, soaking wet, dripping water all over the sheets.

Joaquin ends up splayed out, his legs spread, his dick drooling against his stomach, and he’s so turned on he can’t even care what he looks like.

Kevin apparently doesn’t agree, because he takes one look at Joaquin like that, groans, and covers him with his own body, kissing him deeply on the lips, down his throat, grinding their hips together. The friction of cock against cock makes Joaquin jackknife on the bed, sobbing with pleasure.

“Oh my god,” he moans, “what are you doing to me.”

“I am gonna take you apart,” Kevin mutters, like he’s straight from a cheesy porno flick, but it works, it works so well that Joaquin whimpers again. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you don’t wanna leave me ever again.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” Joaquin gasps out, even as Kevin tears open another packet of lube (seriously, where the fuck was he hiding those) and fucks his fingers back into Joaquin’s hole.

It aches, a deep sort of ache that Joaquin can’t really figure out, and Kevin’s fingers fuck deep and slow, curling around a spot that all at once lights up his spine and intensifies the ache. He never wants it to stop. He wants it to stop now. He doesn’t even know.

“Doing okay?” Kevin asks. God, the kid is so sweet, even when Joaquin can see how badly he wants inside, how badly he needs, can feel it against his hip.

“I think so,” he says. His dick certainly thinks so.

“I’ll take it slow,” Kevin says, and Joaquin nearly screams in frustration.

He knows Kevin’s right, that he’s never done this before, but he’s been hard for so long, his body wouldn’t even care if Kevin shoved his cock in right now as long as there was an orgasm in sight.

So Kevin takes his time. He fingers Joaquin slowly, not exactly gently, but until it stops hurting, until it stops feeling wrong, until Joaquin is gasping without words every time he rubs up against that spot. Until Joaquin is fucking back against three of Kevin’s fingers, almost certain he’s going to come, just like this, no friction on his cock but the occasional rub against Kevin’s skin.

“I think you’re ready,” Kevin decides, about five minutes after Joaquin started begging for his dick.

“ _Please._ ”

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me,” Kevin mutters, sliding a condom over his straining erection. Joaquin loves that he can see the little tremble that causes, that he knows Kevin is as strung out as him on this.

“Sometime, I wanna suck you,” he says, mouth running on autopilot. “I wanna make you feel good, I wanna, I wanna…”

“Baby, trust me, you’re making me feel good right now,” Kevin tells him, and pushes in slowly.

Joaquin has no excuses for the way he yowls, his back arching. He knows, distantly, that that’s the muscle stretching in a way it never has before, that it’s gonna hurt tomorrow like the day after an intense workout, but his nerve endings are pretty much rubbed raw and every new scrape over them feels like it’s electrifying his whole body.

“Oh god,” he’s saying, “ohgodohgodohgod.”

Kevin is gasping against his neck, shaking with the strain of not moving, and that is not what Joaquin wants, he wants _now_. He jerks his hips up, towards Kevin, and Kevin moans. Kevin grind his hips deeper, pushes Joaquin’s legs up higher.

“C’mon,” Joaquin says. “Give it to me.”

Kevin pulls back, far enough to slip out, and it takes a minute to fumble him back into place, but when he slides back it, Joaquin absolutely writhes like the serpent he is.

“Jesus,” Kevin bites out.

Neither of them really manages words after that. Kevin’s got Joaquin’s legs up over his shoulders, and Joaquin would feel ridiculous, except the angle makes Kevin’s cock rub up against his prostate every couple thrusts, and all he can do is yell for it. He knows he’s making a racket, basically screaming for Kevin to fuck him more, more, more, but Kevin is staring at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, eyes dark and fucking savage as he corkscrews his hips deeper, deeper.

Joaquin has no idea how long it lasts, just that his dick brushes up against Kevin’s belly and that’s it. He really does scream when he comes, and it goes on and on, like someone shook a can of coke and it’s just spraying all over both of them. Joaquin’s ears are buzzing, his skin feels too small, and he may die from feeling this good.

Kevin’s still staring at him when he’s done, hitching his hips deeper one more time and then groaning like it’s being torn out of him as he comes. Inside Joaquin. He’s coming inside Joaquin with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth wide open and Joaquin’s dick twitches out one more watery spurt of come just for that.

-

“Jesus Christ,” is all Joaquin can think to say, ten minutes later. He’s curled around Kevin like a comma with his head resting on Kevin’s chest. He’s shaking.

Kevin strokes his hair. “You okay, baby?”

Apparently that’s a thing now. Joaquin can deal with that. “I’m…yeah. Wow.”

“Yeah.” Kevin says. “That was. Yeah.”

“Seriously, I knew you were experienced and shit, not a fucking sex god.”

Kevin giggles under him, and Joaquin smiles into his chest. “I think that was all you,” Kevin says softly.

“I mean it, you know,” Joaquin tells him. “I wanna help. I’ll talk to your dad. I…want to be with you.”

Kevin pulls him up till they’re making eye contact. “I know,” he says. “I know. I do too.” He laughs, then. "You know what, I think I was right about you in the first place."

"Hmm?" Joaquin asks, wondering if he can convince Kevin to stay the night, because he's starting to fall asleep and he wants Kevin to be there when he wakes up.

"That first night? At the drive-in?" Kevin says. "I thought you kind of looked like you'd be sweet for me. Be nice to me."

Joaquin buries his head back in Kevin's chest so he doesn't have to answer. He's pretty sure Kevin knows by now that that's pretty much all he wants out of life.

**Author's Note:**

> My hand slipped.  
> Also, personal headcanon: "going to sweetwater river" is slang for teens in Riverdale and means fucking.


End file.
